


Beginning's End

by EWBANH



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Developing Friendships, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EWBANH/pseuds/EWBANH
Summary: “Who is this person?”Fiona chews her bottom lip, sitting back up straight as she nearly shuts her eyes. She waits, almost expecting for the conversation to carry on without her.It doesn’t.“Do you remember Hyperion’s Handsome Jack doppelganger program?”
Relationships: Rhys/Sasha (Borderlands), Timothy Lawrence & Rhys
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Beginning's End

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore Timothy Lawrence's post-DLC life and how he would react with Rhys Strongfork, considering just how similar their experiences are. This fic is just a fun little what would happen if Timothy was taken to Atlas after everything and how everyone would react!
> 
> feel free to follow me on tumblr @ ewbie

Fiona didn’t expect to get much out of the Handsome Jackpot. She had hoped for a few things, maybe a Hyperion remnant to torment Rhys with or a legendary weapon to hand over to Sasha. Even a decent shield would have been helpful for her vault hunting ways.

She  _ really _ hadn’t expected to walk away with a Handsome Jack look-alike. 

The low vibrating hum of Fiona’s ship is the only noise reverberating through the hull as she tries her very hardest to not look as nervous as she feels. She refuses to look over to the passenger seat, to stare for  _ too _ long at the man sitting beside her, his right wrist in his left palm. The missing hand is a nearly haunting reminder of the man’s past, the hundreds of questions in Fiona’s mind almost bursting through the seams of her shut mouth. 

Fiona settles on dialing the one person she knew could help her get a handle on the barely put together plan she had. 

He had nowhere to go. Moxxi had offered, yet for reasons Fiona wasn’t sure of, he refused to stay with her. He wanted off of Sanctuary III. Refused to even  _ speak _ of Pandora or Elpis. 

Fiona doesn’t think it’s that good of an idea to ask the man where he was from. 

The steady connecting ring of Fiona’s echo jolts her upright, hands gripping the steering wheel with much more strength as she waits for the familiar and soothing voice on the other line. 

_ “Hello?” _

“Yvette, Hi!” Fiona greets, daring to look over to the man now staring at her. “Hey, uh, you got a second?” 

Shuffling erupts on the line, Fiona’s gaze locking back onto the darkness ahead. 

_ “Well I was in a meeting, Rhys was there too,” _ Yvette’s voice crackles back through,  _ “He’s fine as far as I can tell today. He seemed annoyed with some blocks in the clean-up–” _

“No, Yvette, This isn’t about him,” Fiona interrupts, heart now racing. “Uh, I need your help.”

Yvette’s voice is suddenly ten times quieter.  _ “What’s wrong, Fiona?”  _

“Well, nothing’s _ wrong,”  _ Fiona replies, sparing another quick glance to the man beside her, finding him  _ much _ more alert. She’s thankful that he can’t hear the conversation but his furrowed brows and contorted face are still nearly enough to make her own stomach twist. 

“I have a… guest with me,” She states slowly, “But I don’t want Rhys to see him. Or to know I’m coming. Honestly it’s best this stays between us both.” She clears her throat, nodding her head as if to convince herself. “We need clearance to land in about seven hours. On top of HQ, preferably.” 

A beat passes, the silence nearly suffocating before Yvette’s voice returns. 

_ “You know how angry he gets when it comes to secrets, Fi,” _ She starts, an apprehensive tone bleeding into her words.  _ “You’re asking a lot here. He’s still my boss.” _

“Oh come on, I’m his best buddy,” Fiona replied, trying and failing for a joke. “He can’t stay mad at us both.”

Silence greets her words, a sigh leaving Fiona’s chest as she slumps a bit in her chair. 

“It’s for his safety,” Fiona begins once more, “It’s.. Hard to explain. But I’m going to tell him as soon as we land. It’s just better if it’s in person. If I talk to him.” 

_ “Who is this person?”  _ Yvette asks and the air in the ship gets so much colder. 

Fiona chews her bottom lip, sitting back up straight as she nearly shuts her eyes. She waits, almost expecting for the conversation to carry on without her. 

It doesn’t. 

“Do you remember Hyperion’s Handsome Jack doppelganger program?” 

* * *

The pit-stop Fiona is forced to make is at a thankfully empty station just shy of two hours from Promethea. It has only a few other ships parked for refueling, food, and even a place to sleep. Fiona is thankful they only need fuel as she walks out to get just that, leaving her… acquaintance behind. She keeps her head low, hat covering the majority of her face as she waits for the refueling to be done. It only takes a few moments more, Fiona paying her fee before her legs carry her inside, grabbing two drinks. 

Fiona’s back in the ship within a few moments, the other man in the exact same seat, still as silent as ever as she drops down in the front seat. Her eyes scan over the various buttons and lights, ensuring everything was in order before pulling out of the station and back into the dark abyss that was space. 

“I got you a drink,” Fiona manages after the silence grows nearly nauseating, her hand digging through the paper bag to hold it out. “Don’t know what you like so I just picked up the basic flavor.” 

Her eyes lock on his, his left hand reaching out tentatively to grab the glass bottle. Fiona looks back ahead but focuses more on his figure in the corner of her vision. She barely makes out his squinted eyes reading the label, his graying hair nearing a mess as he sat up. 

“It’s good, promise,” Fiona assures as she takes her hands off the wheel, pressing a few buttons on the dashboard before sitting back in her chair, popping off the cap of her own drink. “I know the green look makes it’s it a bit off putting but–”

“I can’t get it open,” The man interrupts, looking at the bottle in hand. His other arm raises a bit as if to show the missing appendage, a grimace on his features.

The voice is as grating as it was when she  _ first _ met him, Fiona hiding her flinch below her usual bravado. 

“Right,” She replies, setting her drink down on the dashboard before reaching over and popping off the cap of his own bottle. The bubbles fizzle on the top as she hands it back over, watching as he gives her a thankful nod. 

The silence that returns is nearly as suffocating as it was before, interrupted only by the clinking of glass from the bottles and sips of the two. Fiona’s skin crawls as the quiet wears on. She’s used to being uncomfortable and dealing with people she didn’t particularly like– people who she had to get along with in order to survive. None of them were doppelgangers of a genocidal maniac who killed thousands of her people, who _directly_ _tortured_ one of her closest friends.

“So, do you go by Timothy or Tim?” Fiona asks, not looking over as her shoes come to a rest on the dashboard.

“Timothy,” The man replies with a small nod. “Tim’s fine. But… I’d prefer Timothy. Just don’t call me Timmy or Timbo or–”

“Got it,” Fiona interrupts, forcing a smile on her lips. 

Timothy shifts and Fiona fights every instinct in her body to  _ not  _ reach for her gun. “I like the ship,” He starts, almost awkward enough to replace the ingrained urge in Fiona to throw a punch. “I didn’t think Atlas still existed, much less made  _ ships.” _

Fiona’s eyes widen with a chuckle. “Oh, right, you’ve been locked away for a while, haven’t you?” She mutters, shaking her head a bit. “Promethea is Atlas’ HQ. You’re gonna see a lot more of what they have to offer.” 

“That’s where Rheeze is, right?” 

_ “Rhys,” _ Fiona snaps, sending the man an instinctive glare, only to nearly grimace, clearing her throat. “He’s picky about his name. It’s just Rhys. No nicknames, no cutesy little pet names. Just Rhys.” 

“Got it,” Timothy answers, much quieter. “Sometimes they come out, but um, I’ll work on it.” 

_ You better, _ Fiona mentally retorts, just barely biting back the reply. “He’s going to help you out.”  _ Hopefully. _

“Even… with me looking like this?” Timothy asks, cringing at his own words as he forces another sip of the drink down his throat. 

“He’s got a soft spot, deep down under all that asshole-ness,” Fiona answers, frowning a bit. “If he doesn’t, you can at the very least live on Promethea. It’s away from the mess that’s Pandora but livable enough you can find a good paying job and start a new life.” She sits up, placing her empty bottle back into the paper bag before fixing her black cowboy hat over her hair.

“He’ll help,” She settles on, sighing. “I know he will.” 

“You know, all I’ve heard from you about this guy is that he’s an asshole,” Timothy begins, his hand setting the now empty bottle between his thighs, arms crossing over his chest. “Moxxi called him an oaf. Lilith just rolled her eyes.”

Fiona takes a moment to respond, picking at her fingernails before looking over. “He’s an asshole, but the loveable kind,” She states with a half-shrug. “He… just happens to be my best friend. He’s reliable.” 

Timothy’s frown is just barely visible in Fiona’s line of sight. 

“Just be honest with him,” Fiona starts. “This could go bad. Really bad. But I think it’s our only option right now. To get you somewhere you can catch up on seven years of bullshit and also keep you from getting jumped by bloodthirsty bandits.” 

“Pandora hasn’t changed?” Timothy questions. 

Fiona thinks for a beat, dropping her hands into her lap. “It’s gotten better,” She replies, looking over with a raised brow.

“Last I heard it was still filled with maniacs and guns.” 

“You’re talking to a native Pandoran right now,” Fiona deadpans, nearly frowning. Timothy’s reaction is nearly comedic were it not for, well, how he looked and the very real fear in his eyes. 

“Shit, well, I meant like– Like a lot of people––”

“Uh huh,” Fiona interrupts, settling on rolling her eyes. “Hyperion. Literal brain rot.”

Timothy grimaces, earning a near-snort from Fiona. “Yeah, figured you weren’t a fan of Hyperion either.” 

“You know someone who is?” Fiona asks, looking over. “Even your own people hate Hyperion.” She shakes her head, shifting her boots over the dashboard. “What matters now is Hyperion is gone. For good. So unless you have plans for being the next Handsome Jack, you’re clear.” 

Timothy’s grimace only grows, startling Fiona as he meets her gaze. “So Rhys is a fan of Hyperion?” 

Fiona can’t hold his gaze for long, blinking before focusing back on the darkness ahead. “No, he hates that company more than anyone else, I think,” She murmurs, “Has a…  _ personal _ hatred for Handsome Jack especially.” 

“And you’re taking me straight to him?!” Timothy shouts, sitting up straight and nearly startling Fiona back. “What is this––”

“Alright chill out,” Fiona interrupts, scowling. “He’s not going to do anything stupid. He hates violence. He probably doesn’t even carry a gun on him, well I guess  _ now  _ he does but that’s beside the point.” She scoots up to the edge of her seat, turning to face him completely. “He’ll understand where you’re coming from… He’s got a big heart.” 

The words are like vomit in Fiona’s mouth as she shakes her head, sitting back into her chair as she crosses her arms. 

“We land on Promethea in an hour and a half,” She states simply. “Just… don’t worry about anything. I’ve got it under control.” 

Timothy doesn’t respond, not that Fiona was expecting a response. Instead, he curls deeper into his seat, brows furrowed and eyes locked back onto their surroundings. She shifts suddenly, reaching into the compartment beside her seat before pulling out none other than a deep blue hoodie, holding it out for the man. 

“Probably best you don’t walk in there wearing a Hyperion hoodie,” She speaks, watching as he took the clothing into his hand slowly. “It’s a tight fit but it should work.”

Timothy holds up the fabric, the shirt a plain deep blue with a small ‘A’ shaped logo on the right side of the chest. 

“Good idea,” Timothy murmurs.

* * *

Fiona still isn’t used to the precarious and overly-cautious landing procedures that come with Atlas HQ. She listens to the dulling instructions over the frequencies before she’s finally landed. Her legs ache as she comes to a stand, stretching her arms over her head before making her way to the sliding door. 

“Um, hang back,” Fiona instructs, looking back to the man with a nod. “I’ll call you out.” 

Timothy looks as nervous as always as he nods, arms wrapped back around his stomach. 

The cool air associated with Promethea greets Fiona’s skin as she steps down from her ship, giving the only other person on the platform a small wave and even weaker smile. 

“Hi, Yvette,” She greets the dimming sun illuminating them both, their shadows stretching across the platform.

Yvette’s arms stay crossed, a permanent frown on her face as she looks past the woman and to the ship.

“I told him to wait for my signal,” Fiona speaks, scratching her arm. “Sasha and Zer0 are distracted, right?” 

“Of course,” Yvette replies curtly. “I’m not an idiot. She’d kill him in a blink of an eye. Zer0 is thankfully off-world.” 

“Yeah,” Fiona sighs, shoulders falling a bit. “This… could be good! I think they could both benefit from knowing one another. You know, group therapy?” 

Yvette’s frown only grows. “Maybe if he didn’t look and sound like the bastard who almost killed him,” She hisses, her crossed arms only tightening. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

Fiona grimaces but says nothing else to the woman, turning back to the ship. “You can come out,” She calls, hands tightening into fists in anticipation. 

Slowly but surely, Timothy makes his way out and down from the ship, coming to a near-shaky stand on the concrete. He takes a few steps as if to test the gravity of the planet before walking over, nearly hunched in on himself. 

“Timothy, this is––”

Yvette’s hand stretches out, her frown still on her face as she holds it out in Timothy’s direction.

“Yvette,” She speaks, watching as he stumbles into the handshake. “Chief Operating Officer of Atlas corporations.” 

“Timothy Lawrence,” The man replies, pulling his hand back after a beat. “Nice to, um, meet you.” 

Fiona notes the slight crack in Yvette’s usually collected demeanor, her arms curling back over her button up. 

“General Rhys isn’t aware of your presence quite yet,” She starts, voice as calculated and straight-forward as it usually was with people she didn’t  _ quite _ like. “But he’s alone, as you requested Fiona. I cleared out his meetings but he’ll be going home in an hour.” 

“And Sasha is…?” 

“With Lorelei,” Yvette answered. “Testing out a new weapon in the firing range.”

“Thanks, Yvette,” Fiona sighs, looking at Timothy with an attempt of a smile. “Let’s go.” 

Yvette leads the way into the rooftop access, coming to a stop just ahead of a private elevator. Her finger immediately presses against the thumb pad, leaning back forward as the slight camera shifts to scan both eyes before the door slowly opens up. 

“Is his secretary not up front?” Fiona asks, stepping in first with Timothy close behind. 

“Jackson, and no, he isn’t,” Yvette answers, clicking one of the many elevator buttons as the doors slowly shuts. “I sent him home. All he has right now is security surrounding his office but we’ll take the back way.” She sends a look to Timothy, searching him quickly before focusing back ahead. “Did you not like the navy blue?” 

“Oh no, I love it,” Fiona assures with a tired chuckle, reaching up to fix her hat. “It’s a temporary borrowing of mine.” She pauses, looking over to the man. “In case it wasn’t clear.” 

Timothy gives the woman a nod, seemingly more interested in his shoes as he shoves both of his wrists into his aviator jacket. 

The rest of the short trip down was silent, save for the furious tapping of Fiona’s shoe against the tile flooring of the elevator, her arms at her side. The elevator dings, calling their attention once more. 

Yvette files out first, heels echoing as she leads them down one of the halls. The sun bleeds into the glass, providing an array of reflecting colors through the building with each step forward. Yvette stops at the front of Rhys’ office, the door shut as her eyes search them both. 

“How’re you doing this?” She asks, hands on her hips.

“I’ll go in first,” Fiona states with a nod. “He’ll be happy to see me and I can, um, prepare him!” Her eyes lock back onto Timothy, giving him a small smile. “You’ll be safe with Yvette.” 

Timothy only grimaces. 

Fiona doesn’t hang around much longer, taking in a deep breath before making her way to the doors, not bothering with knocking as she pushes them open. Her eyes instantly lock onto the sole person in the office, already grinning at his wide-eyed look.

“Fiona!” Rhys all but stammers out, standing up from behind the desk, his feet already carrying him around. “What– why––?” He cuts himself off, pulling the woman into a big hug, nearly lifting her off the ground. Her cheeks nearly burn, still somehow not used to his loving ways, her hands patting his back. 

“Hey, dork,” She greets, unable to keep her  _ own _ affection out of her words. She pulls back, holding his shoulders as his wide eyes search her. “Surprise!” 

“You’re here! Twice in the same month!” He cries out, nearly giddy. “Was Sasha in on this? Or is this because I’ve been spending more time––”

“It’s a surprise for you both,” Fiona assures with a chuckle, eyes locking on his chin as her smile falls. “Why do you have a  _ beard?” _

“Okay, come on, this is  _ not _ a beard,” Rhys defends, reaching up to rub his face. “It’s a  _ ‘five o-clock shadow’ _ , also known as I’m too busy to shave!” His smile is back, eyes nearly sparkling in joy. “How’re you?! It’s only been three weeks since you were here.” 

Fiona rolls her eyes, smiling a bit regardless. “I’ve been good, Rhys. How’re you? How’s… everything?” 

Rhys shrugs, ushering for her to sit on one of the many new benches in his glass office. “Sit down, let’s catch up before Sasha steals you again,” He teases. 

Fiona does just that, taking a seat with a small sigh, eyes searching the new office. The once cracked and broken windows now replaced with a much  _ thicker _ glass, looking brand new. Her eyes make their way back to Rhys, taking in the deeper bags beneath his eyes, the stress lines much more prominent than before. She could almost swear there were more gray strands in his hair, yet his smile was seemingly untouched by everything. 

“How’s vault hunting?” He asks, still grinning from ear to ear, only to falter ever so slightly. “Wait- You’re okay, right? This isn’t some visit where you tell me-”

Fiona startles the man quiet as her hand reaches out, landing on his knee with a slight laugh. “Rhys, breathe, buddy,” She starts, shaking her head. “Your head’s running a mile a minute.” 

Rhys’ shoulders fall after just a beat, laughing softly as he nods. “Yeah, I know,” He replies. “Been busy with clean up and everything, it’s been a rough few weeks.” His eyes crinkle at that, hand landing over Fiona’s as he pats her palm. “It’s getting better though, I promise.” 

Fiona raises a brow but says nothing else, slowly leaning back against the bench, arms crossing as she looks him over once more. He wore a white button up, his tie now a deep blue with various faint black paisleys etched into the silk. A matching dark blue vest set atop of his button up, his jacket discarded onto his chair. His pants were a mismatched deep blue, one side equipped with various vertical lines down to his shoes. 

“You look fancy again,” She spoke. 

“Don’t have a war on my shoulders,” He answers with a weak joke, his smile growing tired for just a beat before he was grinning once more. “But hey! We’ve made  _ so _ much progress on Promethea. You know those tent cities, they’re gone! We’ve got everyone in apartments, a few of those people even got hired actually.” 

Fiona’s genuine smile returns, albeit small as she tries her hardest not to think about what led to the ‘end’ of the war. “That’s good to hear, Rhys,” She settles on, “How about your little lazy river land?” 

“Oh it’s  _ ten times better,” _ Rhys grins. “I got a waterfall now and all the employees spend  _ hours _ there- that with all the raises we made, it’s been great here.” 

Fiona can only drink in so much of the man’s pure happiness and relief before she herself nearly feels giddy with joy. She gives him another small smile before leaning back, looking around the office with a hum. 

“You let them build a statue of you yet?” She asks, looking over. “I know you want to.” 

“Ew, hell no,” Rhys gags, shaking his head. “I’m still getting them to stop calling me ‘ _ General Rhys’– _ even Yvette calls me that during work hours!” His words trail off with a small chuckle, only to frown a bit. “Wait, she was in on you visiting and didn’t tell me?” 

“Yeah,” Fiona laughs, raising a brow. “She just likes me more.” 

Rhys pouts but says nothing else, arms crossing as Fiona grows serious. Her eyes lock on the shut doors of his office as he sits back stretching his arms over his head. 

“I, um, had something I actually wanted to talk to you about,” Fiona starts, diving into the conversation before the room starts to feel too small. She doesn’t look over, not really needing to as Rhys’ wide eyes bore into the side of her face.

“What is it? Are you okay?” Rhys asks, his concern nearly suffocating. 

“Yeah I just… I found something, or rather someone, who could really use your help,” She explains slowly, looking down at the tiled flooring. “But, uh, he’s a bit… different.” 

Rhys’ concern is quickly replaced with confusion. “You mean like with a job? That’s something HR deals with, I don’t really look too hard into it other than the names and orientation days, they usually––” 

“No, well–I guess a job  _ would  _ help, but it’s more than that,” Fiona interrupts, shaking her head before curling her hands into fists over her knees. “He’s… ex-Hyperion. He was kept onboard of a weird… Handsome Jack casino-ship thing. It’s complicated.” 

As Fiona expected, Rhys stiffens immediately at the mere  _ mention _ of the bastard, his eyes nearly unfocusing as she finally turns to meet his gaze. Her hand itches to reach out and hold his palm, hesitating only because of his wide eyed look. 

“Is he- He’s ex-Hyperion.” Rhys shakes his head, frowning. “Why doesn’t Helios Fallen take him? Vaughn would love to teach him the ropes.” 

Fiona grimaces, setting her jaw as she shuts her eyes for a moment. She turns back to the flooring, her voice growing much quieter. 

“He’s Handsome Jack’s doppelganger.”

Rhys’ posture only grows more stiff, his gaze locking onto the door. “I-I mean, there’s only  _ so _ similar th-they can look, right?” He stammers out with a cheap laugh. 

Fiona’s grimace deepens. “He has his voice too.” 

Rhys blinks, startling Fiona as he climbs to a stand, arms immediately wrapping around his stomach as he stands up straight. His eyes flickered between the door and Fiona, a hint of something she couldn’t quite read in his gaze. 

“You don’t have to see him,” She starts quietly, climbing up as well. “I just, I don’t know. Thought you would understand.” 

“Are you saying I’m like  _ Handsome Jack?!” _

_ “No,” _ Fiona assures, going as far as to grab a hold of his flesh elbow, squeezing tight. “He… hates the bastard. He hates how he is and Jack did some fucked up shit to him.” 

Rhys frowns, not looking over. 

“So we’re both victims.” 

Fiona feels her stomach twist at his words, unable to meet his gaze as she nods. “Survivors is another way to put it.” She tries not to shift when Rhys pulls out of her grip, stepping closer to the door before all but speed-walking there. His hands are moving to grab the handles as she comes to a close stand behind him, just barely catching the sight of his face as his eyes lock on Timothy’s. 

The silence is palpable, the tension even more so as their mismatched gazes meet. Rhys is all but leaning on the doorway, looking a shade paler than usual. Timothy’s arms were still wrapped around his stomach, eyes just as wide as he cleared his throat. 

Fiona’s own chest aches as Timothy takes a small step forward, Rhys’ flinch visible to no one but her as his hand shifts upwards into a timid wave. Yvette moves first, heels clinking against the floor as she steps back, eyes locked on the ground. 

“The name’s T-Timothy Lawrence,” He speaks, voice low and almost  _ quieter _ than Fiona had heard yet. “Not, um, Jack.” 

Rhys blinks, as still as ever before slowly swallowing the lump in his throat, not shifting as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Boy, I am  _ so _ glad Zer0 isn’t here right now.” 

Fiona nods, hand landing on his shoulder to squeeze tightly, looking between the two. She prepares herself to speak, to say  _ something, _ but Rhys beats her to it once more, stepping out of her grip and back a step. 

“Let’s uh, all convene in my office,” He croaks out, nodding his head. “Um, Yvette, cancel my plans. And don’t let anyone in. Not even all access.” 

Yvette nods firmly. “Of course.”

Rhys doesn’t hesitate to turn around, leaving his doors open before making his way into the office. Fiona waits for Timothy to move, her nails digging into her skin as she follows after him, shutting the doors to his office. Her eyes lock on her best friend’s seated figure, hands folded over the table, his foot anxiously tapping onto the tile flooring, hidden from Fiona’s view but not her mind.

Timothy stands a good few feet away from the desk, eyes looking everywhere but at the other man in the room. The silence only grows with each moment, each passing second more tense than the last before Fiona can no longer stand it. 

“He’s been trapped for seven years,” She states, almost awkwardly. “No idea on anything that’s happened since.” 

Timothy nods in agreement, looking to Fiona with an almost thankful look in his eyes. 

“I knew about the… the stupid frigging cloning project thing but I didn’t think...” Rhys speaks, voice low as he grabs the pairs attention. He raised his metal palm as if to wave the thought away before looking back up to Timothy, jaw set. “What exactly do you want?” 

The question somehow manages to startle Fiona, not expecting Rhys to be anywhere near as direct as he was. Her heart nearly skips a beat, searching his every breath. She notes his tense shoulders, the sweat on his brow and the slight shake of his flesh hand against the wooden desk. 

“I don’t know,” Timothy settles on after a long beat, honest and true. “I had–– I  _ have _ nowhere to go. Nothing to my name except this  _ stupid _ face and voice.” He shifts, not stepping closer as he redistributes the weight on his feet. 

“Then why come here?” Rhys asks. “Atlas was in direct competition with Hyperion. They’ve never been friends. If anything you should be running away from  _ General _ Rhys.” He stands up, Fiona’s eyes widening as she steps closer, Rhys not looking away from the other man. 

Angry Rhys was  _ always _ a warning sign– a dark sky before a storm. It was better to run in the other direction, to hide for cover and let the storm pass rather than fight it head on. 

“I’ve destroyed two companies now. I built Atlas from the ground up,” Rhys nearly spits out. “Do you  _ know _ who I am?” 

“No, he doesn’t,” Fiona speaks up, fighting the downward twitch of her face. “I didn’t know if that was the Rhys you wanted him to meet.” 

The words do exactly what Fiona had hoped, calling for his attention as his eyes narrow just a bit, his shoulders still tense. A raised white flag blowing in the harsh wind. 

“Fiona said you’d help,” Timothy speaks then, looking to the ground as he shrugs. The beat of silence is long enough for his gaze to raise, meeting the other man’s now shocked gaze. “Something about having a big heart.” 

Rhys doesn’t respond which only seems to make the silence all the more stretched, wrapping itself around each of their throats, squeezing tight. 

“I don’t want to be like this,” Timothy breathes out then, his shoulders falling as he raises his wrists out of his jacket’s pockets, nearly shrugging once again. “I don’t– I promise you. I hate  _ everything _ about myself but there’s nothing. There’s nothing I can do about it now.” 

He sighs out a breath, shutting his eyes as his arms fall to his sides. “There’s nothing in this world I regret more,” He goes on. “I hate Hyperion. I hate Handsome Jack. I hate the way I look– What I’ve done. I hate it all. But it’s not  _ me. _ I’m not Jack or  _ Doppleganger 21-C _ or anything _. _ ”

“I’m just Timothy,” He finishes, eyes wide and words dripping with raw honesty and regret. 

The silence returns with a vengeance, the frown on Rhys’ face nowhere to be found. His eyes, still wide, are locked on the missing hand of the other man. 

“You need a prosthetic,” Rhys states, voice nearing a whisper. 

Timothy looks down to his palm with a half shrug. “Oh, yeah. I had to cut it off to get myself and those vault hunters out,” He mumbles, shaking his head a bit. “It’s a clean cut. No infection or anything. Thank God for lasers, right?” 

Rhys blinks, not looking up from the man’s right wrist before swallowing slowly, blinking once more. He shifts to sit down, pushing down one of the few buttons on his desk. 

“Yvette,” He simply says, not looking away. 

_ “Yes?”  _

“Is anyone in lab 4C?” Rhys asks, clearing his throat. “It’s five thirty. No one should be there.” 

_ “It’s clear,” _ Yvette answers, voice clear and steady. 

“Okay, thank you,” Rhys replies, already tired. “Go home, Yvette. I’ll see you on Monday.” 

Rhys doesn’t wait for an answer, coming to a stand. He slips his suit jacket on, standing up tall with a heavy breath. 

“Atlas builds the most innovative prosthetics known to man,” He states, meeting Timothy’s gaze. “I can get you a replacement.” 

Timothy’s shocked face is disregarded by the other man as he steps past them both and to the door of his office. Fiona follows after first, searching the back of the man’s head for a beat. Timothy is the last to shift, following after nearly silent as they exit the room. 

Fiona tries not to think too hard about the guilt churning in her stomach. 

* * *

Rhys crosses his arms, leaning back against one of the many lab tables with his eyes locked on the prosthetic now on Timothy’s right wrist. The man’s eyes are wide, looking down with a small smile as he bent each and every finger of his hand, the deep blue hand reflecting the color of his pulled back sleeve.

“It connects right to the nerves of my wrist instantly,” Timothy muses quietly, flipping his wrist to face his palm to the ceiling. “It’s a near instant connection. How did you manage that?” 

“Trial and error,” Rhys answers simply, not quite wanting to further expand on the  _ how _ of the question. He looks to Fiona to his right, arms crossed like his but gaze already on him. “This is a prototype. It’s working, of course. But it’s missing many fancy features associated with Atlas.”

Timothy nods slowly, looking up to meet his gaze. “Uh, how do I take it off?” 

“That one’s yours,” Rhys answers simply, his usual joyful tone missing. “Keep it.” He turns to Fiona, suddenly no longer interested in the conversation of his creations. “Have you told Sasha?” 

Fiona shakes her head. “Only Yvette knows we’re here,” She replies with a shrug. “I was going to see her.” 

“You should,” Rhys states, almost curt. “Tell her I got caught up with something and won’t make it to dinner.” He looks away, arms tightening around one another. “Take her out to eat.” 

A beat passes before Fiona shifts just a bit. “Is that a good idea?” She whispers, hand landing on his shoulder. “I don’t mind–”

“Go, Fiona,” Rhys cuts in, giving up his harsh tone after a moment of quiet, his shoulders falling as he raised a hand to the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. “Keep her busy.” 

Fiona doesn't hesitate this time, squeezing his shoulder with a small  _ ‘sure’ _ before exiting the lab altogether, the large glass doors opening before shutting firmly. 

Rhys continues to pinch the bridge of his nose, dropping his hand after a beat before slowly raising his gaze to meet Timothy’s timid eyes.

“How’d you get the crack in your mask?” Rhys asks, arms crossing once more. 

“Got shot,” Tim answers honestly, looking down at the prosthetic on his hand. “I couldn’t escape the casino and my last hand had this stupid thing that helped make money and just– one guy wanted it bad enough he’d kill me.” He shrugged again, looking up to Rhys. “Broke my shield and took a chunk of the mask with it.” 

Rhys doesn’t say anything, jaw setting. “You look just like him under there too?” 

Timothy nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Whole DNA rearrangement too,” He mutters, the words like poison. “Whoever I was before this… is gone. For good.”

“I’m guessing taking it off doesn’t help your case?” Rhys asks, brows furrowing as he spoke. 

“No, he um, gave me the scar too,” Timothy adds, looking down at his shoes. 

“The  _ scar?” _ Rhys repeats, brows furrowing. 

Timothy’s shock is obvious on his face as he looks up, meeting Rhys’ gaze. “Yeah?” He replies as if it were obvious. “The one Lilith gave him? The vault symbol?” 

Rhys blinks. “He never told me about that.” 

It was Timothy’s turn to look shocked, tilting his head a bit as he held his metallic wrist. “Told you?” 

The words seem to have a negative effect on Rhys, the man’s frown returning tenfold. He raised his hand to wave away the conversation, shaking his head a bit. Timothy wasn’t satisfied, brows only rising higher up his face.

“You knew Jack?”

“I did,” Rhys answers, voice tight and sharp, effectively ending the other man’s curiosity. “Does the scar span your whole face?”

Timothy hesitates before nodding. “Yeah, it does,” He mumbles. “I was his favorite doppelganger. Got the best treatment which just happened to be a vault symbol burned into my skin.”

Rhys frowns, looking down at his shoes for a beat before meeting his gaze, looking just a bit paler than before. 

“Promethea wasn’t untouched by Hyperion,” He starts, slow yet calculated. “They know who Handsome Jack is.” 

Timothy’s brows knot up, licking his lips. “So what are my options?” 

“There aren’t many to start,” Rhys replies, his frown only growing. “People will ‘recognize’ you, or at least think they do. You’ll have to keep a low profile if you stay here.”

Timothy’s gaze falls back down at his hands, thinking for a moment. “So I’ll have to keep hiding,” He murmurs. “Like I was.” 

Silence falls between the two, growing longer before Rhys sighs. 

“What do you want to do with your life?” He asks. 

The question was one Timothy didn’t dwell on often. It was a taunt, a bone hanging on a string in front of him and just out of reach. There were few, very little, times where Timothy had the mere  _ thought _ that he’d be free, that he’d get to live his life without constant panic and fear– without the anxiety of what  _ could _ happen. 

“I don’t know,” Timothy confesses, meeting Rhys’ gaze with his honest eyes. “I never thought I’d survive.” 

Rhys stares for a beat, nails digging into his sleeves before he’s taking a deep breath through his nose, exhaling slowly with a nod. “You can stay in Atlas HQ for the time being,” He starts, voice low. “You’ll have to keep a low profile, but I can find things for you to do around here.” 

“You don’t have to–” 

“I know,” Rhys cuts in, leaving no room for the man to speak. “Fiona wouldn’t have brought you here if she didn’t think it’d be the safest place for you.” He looks to the glass doors, tapping his foot against the floor. “I have an apartment for you to stay in.” 

“I have a degree in creative writing if that helps,” Timothy states, almost awkwardly, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s uh, I’m a bit rusty. But I’m good with machines and guns.” 

Rhys raises a brow, not saying anything before turning back to the doors. “Do you have anything with you?” 

“No,” Timothy answers, maintaining his distance from the other man as he follows after him. “I just– The hoodie’s Fionas’.” 

Rhys nodded, turning out of the lab and down a long hall, his hand held out to display a series of wires and lines, focusing on the blue hologram. 

“That’s kind of cool,” Timothy speaks before he can stop himself. “Your cybernetics, I mean.” 

Rhys raises a brow but doesn’t look over. “Built them myself,” He answers, almost as if it were obvious. “You’re staying on the twenty-eighth floor.” 

Timothy blinks, catching up to walk beside the man. “Um, it– it’s safe up there, right? Like being up that high?” 

A beat passes, Timothy’s eyes searching Rhys as the man seems to bite back a small smile, his brows raising slowly. 

“Afraid of heights?” He asks, looking up from the hologram with a tilt of his head. 

“Most sensible people are,” Timothy replies with a grimace. “No shield can protect you from a big enough fall.” 

Rhys actually chuckles at that, the noise small and mostly overlapped by their footsteps as he turns a corner. “Yeah, wish my wife would agree,” He nearly grumbles, albeit the love in his words was easily bleeding through the facade. “She claims that stupidity is how you fall to your death.”

Timothy is smiling before he knows it, Rhys not meeting his gaze as he focuses back on the hologram in his palm.

“So you’re married?” Timothy asks, tilting his head. 

Rhys nods, raising his left hand to wave his ring finger, the shining gold band standing out amongst his pale skin. “Two years.” 

Timothy doesn’t quite understand the warm feeling in his chest at that, preparing to say something, only for Rhys to step into an elevator. He walks in behind him, standing on the far side as Rhys puts away his hologram, pressing one of the various buttons. 

_ ‘Beginning bio-metric scan for General Rhys.’ _

The man grumbles to himself, not moving as the ray of blue overcame his figure, locking on his brown eye for a long moment as the doors shut. The elevator hummed, beginning to move as Rhys leaned back against the railing. 

“It is safe,” Rhys begins with a nod. “You’re in the safest part of the building. Top three floors are reserved and can handle any weapon known to man. Triple reinforced outer layer of shield with two more around each floor. It’s built to withstand falling to the ground as well.” 

“Just the top three floors?” Timothy asks, watching as the numbers ding. 

“Only a handful of people have access up there,” Rhys replies, “And now you do. Your prosthetic has access to get the elevator to your floor and any other  _ unrestricted _ part of the building.” He pauses to nod, crossing his arms. “The cafeteria is open all day and night so feel free to grab food from there. I’m afraid the apartment’s pretty empty outside from the basics.” 

Timothy takes a moment to memorize his instructions before nodding, looking over. “Did someone live there before me?” He asks, not quite sure why.

“Yeah,” Rhys murmurs, almost sadly. “He’s on Pandora now– Well, he’s always been but… yeah.” He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “You have a full closet of clothing and non perishable food in the pantry.” He pauses, looking over with a frown. “Do you have an echo?” 

Timothy nods, lifting his jacket to grab the device off his hip, holding it out. “Kinda old, but it works fine.” 

Rhys frowns, taking it into his hand. His metallic hand messes with the device, echo-eye whirring for a beat. “You have my log now,” He speaks with a nod, handing it back. “Probably for the best you reach out to me and not the other staff.” 

“What about, uh, Fiona?” 

“She’s not staff,” Rhys answered simply. “She’s a shareholder but doesn’t actually do much around here. I’m the CEO.” 

Timothy raises a brow. “I thought you were a general.” 

“You know what, actually,” Rhys says, voice suddenly much louder as he turns to look at the man, pointing at him. “If one more person calls me  _ General Rhys _ I’m going to blow a gasket. I hate it!” 

Timothy blinks, nodding quickly in an almost fearful manner. Rhys’ tense shoulders fall after a beat, reaching his flesh palm to rub his face. 

“Sorry,” He grumbles out, pulling at his skin. “I’m not a general. Or at least I never wanted to be.” His hand falls to his side, curling over his stomach with a long sigh. “Just Rhys is enough.” 

“Got it,” Timothy replies. 

“Is Timothy what you go by?” Rhys asks after a beat, looking over as the elevator slows.

“Timothy or Tim. It’s up to you.” 

“Not big on nicknames,” Rhys mutters, almost to himself before shaking his head, standing back up straight. “Alright, Timothy. Welcome to your new home.” 

The doors to the elevators ding open and Timothy is nearly convinced he’s dreaming. 

An ‘apartment’ was a rather water-downed term for what stood ahead of Timothy, his eyes wide in shock. The home was rather  _ huge _ , an open concept living room and kitchen greeting the pair first. Furniture was already decorated through the home, looking just as high-class and rich as the rest of what Timothy had seen of the Atlas headquarters. The windows on each side of the room stretched from the floor to the ceiling, the last bright rays of sunlight bleeding into the home from each angle as Rhys stepped inside.

“It’s cleaned regularly,” He mutters, almost to himself as he comes to a stand in the entryway of the home. “I’d appreciate it if you left most things as is.” 

“Got it,” Timothy nods, hands back into his jacket. “Are you…?”

“Going home,” Rhys answers, rolling his shoulders before looking away from the home, eyes back on Timothy. “If you need anything you have my log. I’m turning in for the night, or something. I don’t know yet.” He sighs, looking much more exhausted than he was just mere moments ago. “Is there anything you need before I go?” 

Timothy shook his head, swallowing slowly. “Just… thank you, I guess. For everything.” 

The comment only seems to further Rhys’ discomfort, the man’s brows pulling into a frown before stepping back to the elevator, calling it once more. “Yeah,” He settles on, voice barely a whisper as the doors slowly open, stepping inside. “I’ll be… around.” 

The doors shut immediately after, Timothy now alone once again. 

* * *

Timothy sits in front of the television screen in his temporary home with wide eyes, hands curled around a warm mug of tea as his eyes drink in every word on the screen. He’s freshly showered, graying hair dripping over his face with one of many Atlas robes wrapped tightly around him, keeping him warm as the darkness outside bled into the home. 

_ ‘Maliwan executives scramble to find a new CEO as stocks plummet… Many question whether Atlas CEO General Rhys is to merge the two companies…’ _

Timothy was still trying to understand just how Atlas returned to existence– how Rhys had  _ apparently _ fought back Malliwan, leading to their withdrawal and incoming collapse. 

Seven years was  _ much _ longer than Timothy had really considered. He doesn’t dwell long on the thought as the news channel pans to a pre-recorded segment, one featuring none other than the CEO himself. He looked just as tired, albeit the shadow of a beard replaced with a few bruises, standing in front of a destroyed Atlas building. To his right stood none other than Yvette, wearing one of her pencil skirts and button up. Timothy vaguely registered the masked vault hunter on his otherside, standing still. 

_ What the hell happened? _

_ ‘I’m not much for public speaking,’ _ The Rhys on the television spoke, standing behind the podium, a script nowhere to be found.  _ ‘But Atlas does not stand for violence– For unlawful bloodshed and murder. The Maliwan-Atlas war has come to an end now with the death of Katagawa Jr.’ _

Timothy detects just a hint of nervousness from the man, his brows furrowing as Rhys clears his throat. 

_ ‘Atlas and I vow to return Promethea to its prime,’ _ He starts, looking straight into the camera.  _ ‘We are pledging one billion dollars for clean up efforts across the planet, starting with rehousing of the various tent cities.’ _

“Tent cities?” Timothy repeats out loud, eyes wide. “How freaking bad was this war?” He finds himself on the edge of the couch, leaning forward to place the mug onto the glass coffee table. His eyes widen as various reporters sound out, speaking nearly over one another before effectively being silenced by Yvette. Rhys’ pointed out one of the various reporters with a near grimace, shuffling behind the podium.

_ ‘Is it true that Katagawa Jr. was here in Atlas headquarters?’ _ The reporter rushes out,  _ ‘Was there an assassination attempt by Maliwan?’ _

Timothy curses, slamming his fist down on his knee as the news cuts back to the present, the reporters seated behind their desks. 

_ ‘In the three weeks since this interview, General Rhys and Atlas have been committed to their promise, spending nearly 2.3 billion dollars on clean-up efforts across the planet.’ _

A harsh sigh leaves Timothy’s lips as the news moves onto a different topic. He reaches for the remote, flickering through the channels before leaning back into the couch with a huff, the television now off.

_ So, Rhys almost… got killed by Maliwan’s CEO?  _ He thinks to himself, furrowing his brows as he looks down to his prosthetic hand. _ I guess he’s trying to fix the planet now. _

The pieces of the puzzle surrounding Promethea and Atlas’ connection only seemed to scatter further and further from Timothy. Each new segment of information, new _ understanding,  _ only comes with more questions and confusion. He had little to no information on how Rhys was connected to Hyperion, to Handsome Jack, or even who he  _ was. _

_ “I didn’t know if that was the Rhys you wanted him to meet.” _

Timothy is sharply pulled out of his thoughts at the dinging from the elevator, brows shooting up and eyes wide as he comes to a stand. The lower button on the panel blinks as he closes the distance, blinking a few times before clicking it. 

The elevator doors to the elevator slide open, revealing none other than Rhys. 

“Oh, uh, hi?” Timothy greets awkwardly, stepping back as his eyes flickered over the man’s new outfit. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and large gray hoodie with the company’s name over his chest. 

Rhys steps in after a beat, nodding his head in greeting before coming to a stop in the apartment. His eyes wander, the doors shutting slowly before finally looking over to Timothy. 

“My wife wants to meet you,” Rhys states simply, nearly frowning. “And I’m not one to hide things.” He pauses, eyes narrowing. “Unlike someone else.” 

Timothy blinks, fixing his robe over his t-shirt. “Uh, yeah, n-now?” He asks, eyes wide. “I need to get dressed but uh, s-sure.” 

Rhys doesn’t say much else, looking down at his metal palm with a slight frown. “She’s from Pandora,” He adds quietly. “So, not really a fan of Hyperion.” 

“Who is?” Timothy asks, tilting his head a bit. “As far as I’m aware, you’re only  _ slightly _ correlated to Hyperion and that you have a personal vendetta against Handsome Jack– which I don’t have details on.” 

“And if things go the way I’m hoping they do, you don’t ever need to know,” Rhys nearly sneers, albeit his face is pulled into a tired look. “She’ll be here in two minutes.”

Timothy blinks before nodding rather frantically, taking off into the home and to the bedroom he laid claim to. His gaze just barely locks onto the portrait on the dresser, eyes searching the photograph of Rhys and an unknown man wearing glasses for a beat before pulling out a pair of sweatpants. He pulls off his robe, fixing the plain white shirt over his chest before climbing into the pants. They were rather snug over his hips, frowning before making his way back out of the bedroom. 

Rhys was pacing in front of her elevator, metallic hand drumming a beat on his thigh while his flesh palm ran through his hair. His eyes immediately jumped up, locking on the other man with a slight frown before he turned back to the elevator, not quite leaving his back to Timothy. 

“Uh, anything I should know about her?” He asks, arms crossing over his chest as he comes to a stand beside the man.

“Nothing I can really say that won’t delay the inevitable,” Rhys grumbles, sighing heavily after a beat of silence. “She carries a gun on her.” 

Timothy’s eyes nearly bulged out of his mask.  _ “Is she going to  _ **_use_ ** _ it!?”  _

“Hope not.” 

The elevator dinged then, the button flickering once more. Rhys doesn’t hesitate to click it immediately, stepping back as the doors slowly opened. Timothy couldn’t help himself as he hid just a bit behind the other man, keeping his distance as his eyes widened. 

The doors revealed  _ two _ people, much to Timothy’s surprise. He just barely managed to focus on Fiona’s near grimace, eyes locking instead on the shorter woman beside her. Her skin was darker, hair in long braids down to her hips as she wore a loose fitting off-shoulder deep blue sweater. 

“Timothy, this is–” 

“You’re  _ kidding _ me,” The woman interrupts, eyes fiery and hands curled into fists. She steps into the apartment, looking past Rhys and straight at Timothy. “They weren’t joking…” 

“Timothy, meet Sasha,” Rhys sighs out, hand landing on her shoulder as he turned to face the man. “Sasha, Timothy.” 

“He’s not staying here,” Sasha breathes out after a beat, looking over the man. “Oh my– You  _ seriously _ thought this was a good idea, Fi?!”

“At the time, yes,” Fiona answers, stepping up behind the pair, her grimace only deepening. 

Rhys shakes his head, stepping closer to stand beside Timothy, eyes already tired. “Timothy… is staying,” He states, looking at Sasha with a frown. “No one’s happy about it–”

“I can leave!” Timothy cuts in, hands up as he takes a step back, looking between the three with big eyes. “I’m more than willing to just–”

“Then go! Why’re you still here!?” Sasha snaps, raising her fist to point a finger at the man. “God, your voice. You’re  _ insufferable _ to look at!”

“I’m aware,” Timothy replied with a frown. “Rhys told me to stay–”

“Can we all take a minute to  _ breathe,” _ Fiona interrupts, standing between the three with her hands out. “Sasha, seriously, can you at least try–”

Sasha’s finger juts into her sister’s shoulder, nearly strong enough to send her stumbling. “You’re the  _ last _ person here to try and make any demands, Fiona,” She seethes, looking back to Timothy. “How do we know he’s not here to try and bring Hyperion back to its prime?!” 

“Because I’m not Handsome Jack,” Timothy answers, arms tightening over his chest. “And I’ve also been locked away for seven years with  _ no _ access to anything that could even give me any remote power.” 

“Sasha, babe,” Rhys starts, stepping forward to hold the woman’s shoulders with both hands, steering her a few feet away. “Listen, I said it was fine–”

“You said Fiona just dropped him off here,” Sasha cut in, shaking her head. “That doesn’t sound like much of a choice, Rhys!” 

Rhys shakes his head, squeezing her shoulders with a growing frown. “I could’ve said no,” He counters, looking to the other two for a beat before finding Sasha already looking over at the man. “He’s not him.” 

“Well, I’m glad he’s not the same genocidal megalomaniac set out to kill you and thousands of other people,” Sasha replies, words dripping with sarcasm as she glares at the man. 

Rhys doesn’t reply immediately, settling on sighing out a heavy note before looking between the two. “I don’t want him gone,” He speaks after a beat, “That’s what I want.” His gaze locks on Sasha, her emerald eyes burning with near-rage as she keeps her fists at her sides. “Me.  _ I  _ want him to stay.” 

Silence fell over the four, dripping with tension as Rhys shifted first, his hands dropping from Sasha’s shoulders to look back to Timothy, the man’s eyes locking on his instantly. 

“I can leave–” 

“You can, yes,” Rhys replies, voice laced with a tired pang. “I’m not keeping you hostage. Never was my intention.” He pauses, eyes falling to the ground just between them, nodding slowly. “But I want to… I think sticking together might be the best plan here. You’ll be safe enough and I want to...” His words trail off, drowning the room in silence.

Fiona shifts closer than, her hands on her hips. “I wouldn’t have brought him here if I thought he was dangerous,” She starts, looking to Sasha first, holding her gaze. “I shouldn’t have hid things, yes, but I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable,” Sasha mutters, not looking over when the woman let out a sharp scoff. She stepped closer to Timothy, glaring straight into his gaze.

“Alright, see, everything’s fine,” Rhys sighs out, arm wrapping around Sasha’s waist to pull her back to his side, looking to Fiona. “Can you guys head back up? I’ll be up in a few minutes.” 

“Not without you,” Sasha counters, voice low. “We said–”

“He won’t hurt me,” Rhys interrupts, shaking his head with a tight smile. “He doesn’t have a weapon.” 

“He doesn’t need a weapon,” Sasha replies, looking between him and Rhys, only for her husband to lean close, placing a quick kiss on her hair line, hands reaching up to squeeze her shoulders tight. 

“It’ll be fine,” He murmurs, leaning back only an inch as he nodded. “Come on, I’ll be up in two.” 

Sasha hesitated, only pulling away when Fiona’s hand wrapped around her arm. She pulled her arm out of her sister’s grip, looking to Timothy with another frown before clicking the elevator button. The doors opened instantly, followed immediately by Sasha’s footsteps inside, standing with her arms crossed. Fiona spared a quick glance between both men before nodding, following after her sister.

Rhys turns back to Timothy with a heavy sigh, arms at his sides as he meets the man’s gaze with a weak smile.

“That’s Sasha for you…” He starts, his smile falling off after a beat. “That went better than I expected.” 

“Did it?” Timothy speaks, put off. “I should just- It’s better if I head out of here, isn’t it?” 

Rhys shook his head quickly. “No, it’s probably worse- Probably a lot worse. For us both,” He replies, almost rushing out. Timothy’s confused gaze meets his, brows furrowing before Rhys’ shoulders fall.

“Sasha’s just.... She worries,” He murmurs, arms crossing before shaking his head once again. “That’s beside the point. I want to talk to you. And help. I want to help.” 

Timothy is hit with a wave of skepticism, his eyes narrowing and arms mimicking Rhys’ posture, crossing over his chest with a growing frown. “Why?”

Rhys’ reluctance returns once more, his grip on his arms tightening. The seconds of silence grow longer before his arms fall to his sides with a shrug, looking more human than he had all day. 

“I lost my chance to help people Hyperion fucked over before,” Rhys starts, voice much quieter, almost  _ softer. _ “This… you’re my chance to make things better for… I don’t know. To fix things.” 

Timothy’s eyes only narrowed. “So I’m some basket case to you?” 

_ “No,”  _ Rhys replied immediately, frowning again. “I’m offering you my help, from ex-Hyperion to ex-Hyperion.” 

A beat passes, Timothy’s arms tightening around his chest, swallowing slowly. “So you used to work for them,” He murmured. 

Rhys sets his jaw before nodding slowly. “Yeah,” He answers simply, looking back up to meet his gaze. “That’s what Atlas is. My attempts at making up for my past mistakes.”

The silence that fills the room is just as heavy as it was moments ago, Timothy shifting first as he steps look to the elevator with a small nod.

“Okay,” Timothy breathes out. 

Rhys seems to deflate with a heavy breath, nodding his head in relief, his hand up in his hair to push back his hair. “Tomorrow’s… Saturday. We can talk in the morning.” He walks back to the elevator, pressing the button with another heavy breath. “You’ve got my log if you need anything.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Timothy spoke, managing a weak smile. 

* * *

Rhys lies awake in his incredibly soft bed, his eyes locked on the ceiling as he finds himself lost in his mind. His thoughts race, from Atlas to the man sleeping just a few floors below. He found it difficult to relax, not because of Timothy's presence, but rather just how  _ harrowing  _ it had been to see him. 

The similarities between Timothy and Handsome Jack were as plain as day. On one hand, Timothy had the man’s mask, he had his voice and stature. When his voice was raised, Rhys couldn't help but feel a deep unsettling sickness in his stomach churn, rising up to his chest and tightening his throat. 

But Timothy was different, too. His mask was aged, his hair graying and missing the Handsome Jack ‘touch’. His mannerisms were one of an anxious man, making himself as small as possible amongst a crowd. Despite the similarities… Timothy was  _ different. _

Handsome Jack was a monster, Rhys knew that now. He was blinded long ago by the drive to be successful, to prove himself amongst his coworkers. But he was smarter now, he knew the truth. The man was evil personified, his torture knowing no bounds. 

He had  _ branded _ an innocent man. 

“You’re thinking really loud again.” 

Rhys looked to his left, finding none other than Sasha sitting exactly where he’d left her. She was seated up in her silk pajama set, the shorts high above her knees and thin straps of her tank top resting lazily on her shoulders. A concerned look was twisting over her face as her palm came to a rest over Rhys’ heart. 

“Sorry,” Rhys replied with a small chuckle, tilting his head against the pillow to look up at her. “You ready to sleep?” 

Sasha’s eyes narrowed, shaking her head before switching to sit with her legs crossed, her hand still over his chest. “You look like you need to talk,” She murmured, resting her other palm over his, taking his flesh hand into hers. 

Rhys stared for a beat before laughing softly once more, looking back up to the ceiling. He maneuvered his larger hand to encompass her smaller palm, thumb running over her knuckles. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say,” He mumbled.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t listen anyway,” Sasha replied, squeezing his hand. “C’mon, let’s hear it. I have a feeling I already know what it’s about.” 

“Yeah,” Rhys sighed, his chest rising and falling. His mind worked to gather his thoughts in a concise way that made sense, not that Sasha wouldn’t understand his ramblings anyway. 

She was good at understanding  _ him. _

“Just thinking about how much of a monster he was,” Rhys breathed out, brows furrowing. “Like, I know I was an idiot back then but  _ still. _ I was so naive and blindly followed the sayings and doings of some corporate overlord.”

“And I know I’ve made some good in the world, I’ve tried to fix the mistakes I made,” Rhys went on, shaking his head a bit. “But even then, I just feel like maybe… maybe I just…” He trailed off, sighing heavily. 

“Maybe you didn’t really change,” Sasha finished for him, meeting his mismatched gaze.

Rhs blinked, unable to hold her gaze for long before focusing up on the ceiling. “Yeah.” 

“Well, I doubt you’d have me here if you  _ hadn’t _ changed, Rhys,” Sasha began, raising a brow. “You were insufferable back then.” 

Rhys snorted. 

“I’m serious. You had your ugly blue and yellow, which I mean  _ come on,” _ Sasha gagged, earning a genuine chuckle from the man beside her. “I know Pandoran’s don’t have the best fashion taste but ugh, you looked terrible.” 

Sasha shifted a bit, waiting for his chuckles to subside before growing soft once more, her finger tracing the blue ink below her touch. “But, you’re not the same person you were then. None of us are,” She murmured, her genuine tone back. “And I know… it can be scary. To think you haven’t changed. But Handsome Jack wouldn’t do  _ half _ the things you’ve done and do.” 

Rhys frowned, staring holes into the ceiling. “He was in my head–”

“And you ripped him out, along with all his stupid little ideologies,” Sasha cut in with a shake of her head. “Jack wouldn’t try and help a guy who looked  _ exactly _ like the man who tortured him.” 

The room grew quiet, Rhys finally gathering the strength to look over, his frown as present as always. 

“I didn’t mention Timothy,” He murmured.

“We’ve been together for five years and you still don’t think I can read your mind?” Sasha asked, daring to tease the man as she tilted her head a bit, brow raised. Her words got the reaction she had been looking for, a small yet real smile on the man’s lips. 

“I know it was probably… unsettling to deal with him,” She went on quietly. “And you don’t owe him anything, Rhys. You don’t.” 

Rhys set his jaw, swallowing slowly. “I want to help him.” 

“And you are,” Sasha assured, meeting his gaze. “But you can’t… I know you want to help him but you need to focus on  _ you _ too.” 

“I know, I promise I’m not forcing myself to do  _ anything,”  _ Rhys mumbled, shaking his head a bit. “I just… I didn’t. I don’t think he knows about what I did. To Helios.” 

Sasha was quiet for a beat, her voice nearly a whisper when she finally gathered the sorrowful understanding Rhys was trying to portray. 

“You feel like you owe him,” She murmured, brows twisting. 

Rhys looked back to the ceiling. “Yeah. Yeah I do.” A heavy sigh left his chest, shifting his metal arm to rest under his head. “It was his home too,” He continued quietly. “I know he hates Hyperion just as much as the next guy but… it’s just…” 

“I wasn’t there for the clean up, I wasn’t there for  _ anything _ after Helios fell,” Rhys went on somberly. “And I didn’t get a chance to help the people I displaced.” He paused, swallowing slowly before looking back over to Sasha.

“And Timothy- Timothy’s my chance to, I don’t know, directly impact someone Jack fucked over,” He confessed, “There’s no way I can go back in time and be there for the Children of Helios. But I can be here for Timothy. I can  _ help _ him.” 

“You didn’t put him on the Handsome Jackpot, Rhys,” Sasha spoke, “You had no idea it existed.” 

“I know, but I… I want to help,” Rhys whispered, shrugging his metallic shoulder. “I understand him better than anyone else ever could. We were both…” 

Sasha’s gaze fell to the rigged and raised scars that bled out of Rhys’ right shoulder, rising up to his collarbone before disappearing into the metal of his prosthetic. They were messy and harsh against his freckled skin, a haunting and unforgettable reminder of that night from so long ago. 

“You were both scarred by him.” 

Rhys nodded slowly, searching his wife’s solemn face before no longer being able to stand the sight, his eyes back on the ceiling. His cold hand squeezed against her warm palm, finding comfort in her warmth as he always did.

“I want to help him,” Rhys repeated, voice nearing a whisper and dripping with raw honesty. 

Silence fell over the pair, wrapping them both in it’s unsettling hold. The moment grew almost uncomfortable before Sasha shifted first, pulling Rhys’ hand up to her lips as she spoke, breath tickling his skin. 

“Then we can help,” She murmurs, eyes locked on his. “Remember, you married me. I told you you’d never be alone again if you did.” 

A wide grin grows on Rhys’ lips, his eyes crinkling. “And I’ve loved every single moment since you’ve said yes,” He replied. 

Sasha’s own lips pulled into a smile, rolling her eyes before letting the moment fade. She pursed her lips against his wedding ring, squeezing his hand with both of her warm palms. 

“I’m serious, though,” She spoke, eyes searching his. “I’m staying by your side through all this too. And even if Fiona was dumb about it, she’s here too. We can figure it out together. As a team.” 

Rhys nodded, eyes slowly fluttering over her features before pulling his hand out of her grip, wrapping both his arms around her and pulling her down onto his chest. He held her tightly, hugging her with all his might as she tried to hug him back as best she could.

“Alright, dork,” She grumbled out after a beat, leaning back as Rhys’ grip loosened, his arms not shifting from over her lower back. Her palm reached up to hold his face in her fingers, brushing his scratchy chin.

“You plan on shaving anytime soon?” She asked, raising a brow.

“Just for you,” Rhys answered with a shit-eating grin, leaning up to place a quick kiss on her lips before his head fell back down onto the pillow, yawning. 

Sasha shook her head before lying onto her side, her temple landing over his flesh shoulder as his arms fixed themselves around her side, holding her against him tight. He yawned once more as Sasha fixed the thick comforter over them both, pulling it up to her shoulders before tilting her head to meet Rhys’ gaze. 

“You ready to sleep?”

Rhys nodded immediately, echo-eye already shut. 

“Good,” Sasha murmured, resting her head back down onto his chest, his heart beating in her ears as her hand wrapped over his far side. “Good night, Rhys.” 

Rhys fell asleep soon after, his mind finally calm. 

* * *

Timothy’s new boots echoed off the tiled flooring of the Atlas facility, his eyes peering out into the city as Rhys walked to his right. Fiona and Sasha’s own shoes echoed beside him, Timothy making a great effort to  _ not _ look behind him. He settles on flickering his gaze from each building of the base, eyes barely able to lock on a single thing before being pulled away by something even  _ more _ impressive. The many guards roaming the campus held heavy guns, wearing even bulkier armor than he would have thought. 

The most surprising realization of it all was Rhys knowing  _ every _ single one of their names. 

“Security’s been tight around here these last few weeks,” The man spoke then, arms at his sides as Timothy walked in beat beside him. “Sense of safety and whatnot.” 

“You built all of this?” Timothy asks, looking over with furrowed brows. “The base, I mean.” 

“Hell no he didn’t,” Fiona replies for the other man. “He had a whole team of flashy architects.” 

“Well, I don’t see you having a degree in Architecture,” Rhys shot back, brows raised. 

“Do you really need a degree to draw a building?” Fiona retorts with a smirk. 

Rhys rolls his eyes but says nothing, turning back to Timothy with a nod. “I worked on the campus layout with the executive team’s help,” He answers with a half shrug. “Obviously I didn’t physically build anything but you get the idea.” 

“It’s nice,” Timothy murmurs, looking over to the man. “I like it.” 

A small yet proud smile grows over Rhys’ lips, giving Timothy a nod before turning down another hall, the outside world disappearing. He comes to a stop in front of another heavy set pair of sliding doors, his prosthetic palm raising to wave in front of the censor, the doors opening immediately. Timothy waits for Rhys to step in first, only for the man to turn back around and face the other two. 

“Is this where we leave you?” Sasha asks, voice quiet and locked on Rhys’ eyes. 

“Yeah,” Rhys murmurs, a smile on his lips. “We can meet back up in a half-hour. It won’t be that long.” 

Sasha doesn’t look anywhere near convinced, a hint of worry bleeding into her unhappy expression. 

“We’ll be on the sixth floor,” Fiona speaks up with a nod, gaze flickering between the two men. “Anything you… need from us?” She asks after a beat, watching as Rhys and Sasha’s gazes stay locked, a silent conversation flowing between the two before Sasha breaks contact first, looking to Timothy.

“Okay,” She breathes out with a tight smile. “Well,  _ Timothy. _ I’ll be seeing you both later. Healthy and  _ alive.” _

Rhys tries to hide his snort under a clearing of his throat, shaking his head. 

“Okay, we’ll see you two later,” Fiona pipes up, arm around her sister’s shoulders. “We have our echos.” 

Rhys and Timothy wave the two goodbye, the former of the two waving his hand slowly as they turned back down the hall, Sasha casting a few concerned glances at the pair. The duo turn around once they’re no longer in sight, entering through the doors. 

To Timothy’s surprise, the room on the other side was  _ hot, _ adorned with various green plants on each lab table. Various tools were scattered across the series of tables, large white suits against the walls as a large plastic sheet cut the room in half, the far side expanding into a glass dome. 

“Greenhouse,” Rhys speaks up, grinning. “One of our thirty-four or so. Atlas is slowly delving into bio-engineering and sustainability, specifically with plants that can survive harsh planets like Pandora and Eden-Three.” He comes to a stop, blinking before looking over to Timothy. “Have you ever actually stepped down on Pandora?” 

Timothy shakes his head. “No, actually. Just Elpis.” 

Rhys nods with a hum. “I actually had my honeymoon up there. One of those fancy crater resorts,” He chuckles out, beginning his walk to the far side of the room. “Pandora isn’t too different if I’m being honest.” 

“How long were you on Pandora?” Timothy questions with a tilt of his head. “I thought you were on Helios?”

Rhys is quiet, pulling back the plastic sheet that divided the room to step through, holding it up so that Timothy could follow after. The man did just that, stepping into the large glass dome with a small gasp. 

The dome was filled to the rim with a variety of plants and trees, mimicking a near-forest of bright green. A few of the trees carried multiple fruits of different colors, their stripes and vibrant colors sticking out amongst the green leaves. The ground was now grassy, dirt pathing their guide through the greenhouse as Rhys made his way inside. It was nearly hard to breathe amongst the humid and wet air, the atmosphere significantly warmer. 

“Spent three years on Pandora, three on Helios,” Rhys murmurs, coming to a stop on the path just in front of a few large trees. “Actually started working on Helios for about a year before Jack died. Never had the, uh, pleasure to meet him there.” 

Timothy is quiet for a beat, gauging the other man before settling on  _ how _ to navigate the upcoming conversation. 

“So you met him on Pandora?” Timothy settles on after a long, quiet, moment. 

Rhys didn’t reply immediately, his posture still tense and stiff, eyes locked on the tree ahead before deflating. It was almost unnatural, his shoulders slumped and hands shoved into the pockets of his dark blue slacks. 

“I actually implanted him into my head.” 

Timothy’s eyes are wide, locked on the side of Rhys’ face as he blinks a few times. The words don’t make sense, the entire  _ idea _ of it all doesn’t make sense. Yet there’s no shit-eating grin or chuckle from Rhys to signify it  _ was _ a joke. The moment stretches on, earning a long sigh from Rhys.

“It’s a long story but it wasn’t on purpose,” Rhys mutters, reaching one hand up to the side of his head, tapping his temple port. “It was an AI version of him, but it was him. And he sat in my head for a good while.”

“You got him out… right?” Timothy asks, almost unsure. 

Rhys laughs but the sound is hollow, nodding his head as he shoves his hand back into his pockets. “I did, eventually. But not before I….” He pauses, frowning. “I went up to Helios with him in my head, and he got into the mainframe of the entire station. He was everywhere.”

Timothy’s throat goes dry, his chest tightening as his heart starts to race. It was all starting to make sense. The lost connection from Helios five years ago, the lack of communication from his ‘friends’ aboard the base. The fact Hyperion had virtually disappeared from any news sources– 

“You destroyed Helios.” 

Rhys only nods.

“H-How? How did you– It was  _ huge! _ I was there when it was being built, it took so long,” Timothy practically stammers out, shaking his head in disbelief. “How did one guy–”

“I crashed it into Pandora,” Rhys cuts in, almost roughly as he turns to face him. “The whole station.” 

The silence returns with a vengeance, even more harsh and intense, filling up every crevice of the forested dome. It grips Timothy in a  _ chilling _ embrace, taking any words, anything he could even think to say with it. 

Rhys seems untouched.

“Seven thousand, six hundred, and eighty-nine people died in the initial crash,” He goes on. “Nine hundred and seventy-four died in the first six months on Pandora.” His chest rises and falls with a heavy breath, eyes still locked on the tree ahead of them both, tracing the large leaves and branches.

“I killed those people, not Handsome Jack,” Rhys breathes out. “I took Jack up to Helios. I sabotaged Helios. And that’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life. I have their blood, and the blood of many Promethean’s, now on my hands.” 

He turns to face Timothy, nearly startling him back a few steps as he meets his mismatched gaze. 

“I killed Jack once and for all, he’s gone for good. And now Hyperion is a shadow of itself,” Rhys assures. “You don’t have to worry about them or hide from them. Obviously don’t go running into their head of operations but… Promethea is safe now. You’re safe here.” He sets his jaw, nodding his head as he looks back to the trees surrounding them both. 

“Hyperion knows what Atlas could do to them. What  _ I _ could do again,” He finishes in a whisper. 

Timothy struggles for a moment, still processing that the man beside him, one who stated time and time again that he wanted to  _ help, _ was the same man who destroyed Hyperion. Who killed thousands of people Timothy knew personally. 

Handsome Jack had been an evil presence in Timothy’s life. He was in every breath, every corridor, his own reflection was one of Jack’s. But underneath the surgeries and past the drilling sound of his own voice, Timothy still had himself. He had his stupid anxiety and immaturity– He was still  _ Tim. _ He was nothing like the monster of a human that was Jack. 

Rhys didn’t seem to think the same of himself. 

“My mission in life is to make up for what I’ve done,” Rhys speaks then with a small nod, looking at Timothy. “We’re both ex-Hyperion. We’ve both moved on and, hopefully, become better people. But I know what it’s like to have the ghost of that company staring down your back. To have Jack’s voice in your head.”

“I can offer you whatever Atlas is capable of, to give you a new fresh start,” Rhys continues, a tight smile on his lips. “If you want to stay on Promethea, you’re more than welcome to. There’s a lot of work to be done after the war but you don’t even have to get involved with anything Atlas, and by extension, me.”

Timothy frowns, looking down at the shoes Rhys had given to him this morning. He thinks about the fresh set of clothes, the stunning apartment. Even despite Rhys’ reluctance, one that he fully understood and expected, Rhys  _ helped. _

“What happened to the survivors of the crash?” Timothy asks after a beat, almost fearing the answer. 

Rhys blinks, his smile falling and looking almost shocked. “Oh, they–They’re fine! A couple work for me here. Yvette is actually a survivor and before that, she was one of my closest and only friends on Helios,” He answers, chuckling softly. 

“The thousand or so that survived are still on Pandora,” Rhys assures, his weak smile fading. “They’re thriving in one of the biggest cities on the planet; Helios Fallen.” He looks back over with an attempt of a smile, shrugging his shoulders. “Atlas funds security there, we do some trading too. Vaughn runs it wonderfully, it’s a thriving settlement with almost seven thousand people now.” 

“Oh,” Timothy breathes out, a weird sense of relief filling his chest. “That’s… That’s good.” 

“It’s amazing, really,” Rhys replies with a quick nod. “It’s one of the safest places on the planet now and it’s no thanks to me, really.”

“I thought you said you fund their security measures?” Timothy points out, frowning. “Isn’t that helping?”

Rhys shrugs once again. “I meant I wasn’t there in the beginning,” He corrects quietly, eyes drifting to the ground, kicking the dirt with his shoe. “I wasn’t really able to be there for the first six months or so. Vaughn’s the one who kept those people alive when it mattered.” 

Timothy frowns but knows people well enough to understand when someone didn’t want to delve that deep. 

“Vaughn… He’s the guy in the pictures, isn’t he?” Timothy asks, diverting the conversation effortlessly. 

Rhys blinks, looking up with a pained look that's immediately wiped away with a raised brow. “You were snooping?” 

It’s Timothy’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “It was on the dresser.” 

“Oh, right.” Rhys frowns, sighing after a beat before giving the man a small nod. “Yeah, he’s my best friend– Or was. I don’t know, it’s complicated. We’ve been friends since before Helios.” 

Rhys shakes his head after a second, giving Timothy no room to speak before looking over to the other man.

“Do you have friends or family you want to find?” He asks, brows furrowed. “I’m sure Fiona could take you to find them, if they’re on Pandora at least. She visits often enough.”

Timothy blinks a few times, brows furrowed as he finds himself nodding. “Yeah, actually, I have a few friends there,” He answers. 

“Oh, would I know them?” Rhys questions, tilting his head. 

“Well, one was a vault hunter. Athena?” 

The wide eyed look that overcomes Rhys’ face is comical, his jaw dropping as he stares at the man.

“You’re  _ kidding me!?” _ He laughs out, stepping back with a shake of his head, still laughing. “There’s no way– _ Athena?! _ She– We defeated a vault monster together! She saved my life! _ ”  _

“No freaking way,” Timothy replies in his own laugh, shaking his head. “She– She helped me kill a vault monster too!” 

Rhys’ laughter only grows, getting to the point where he has to lean forward, hands on his knees as he shakes. The laughter is contagious, taking Timothy down a similar path, his hand over his lips as he grins widely.

Their conjoined laughter continues for a long moment, subsiding as Rhys stands up straight, wiping his eye with his palm as he shakes his head. 

“I’m guessing she’s okay then?” Timothy asks with a slight tilt of his head. 

“Oh, she’s fantastic,” Rhys answers with a big smile. “She’s married now! To Janey!” 

Timothy gasps, his jaw dropping. “No freaking way! Really?!” 

“Oh yeah, and I got a VIP invite,” Rhys replies, eyes crinkling in glee. “Janey helps with this whole vehicle system. They’re both doing well. Really well.” 

Relief blossoms in Timothy’s chest, nearly enough to knock him back onto the ground. His hands make their way into  _ his _ hoodie, looking over to Rhys with a genuine smile that nearly hurt. It slowly faded, the calm air returning as they both focused back on their surroundings. Timothy’s the first to shift, letting out a long, relaxed sigh for the first time in ages. 

“I… think staying here for a little bit will be good,” He murmurs, nodding his head. “I need some time to figure things out. For myself.” 

“You’ll be in good company. Promethea is safe now,” Rhys assures. “Fiona’s getting you a new and improved echo to use so you can get in contact with anyone.” 

“Oh,” Timothy breathed out, brows furrowing. “I didn’t think she liked me. Her or Sasha.” 

Rhys snorts. “If Sasha or Fiona hated you, you’d probably be dead,” He replies, raising a brow. “Fiona was more than happy to help you. And Sasha… she wants to help to, even if she has a funny way of doing it.” He turns to face the man with a shrug, looking back the way they came. 

“I could go for some breakfast, you wanna join? Sasha makes the  _ best _ sandwiches,” He starts, giving Timothy a small smile. “I can give you a full tour afterwards if you’d like.”

“Oh, I m-mean, if that’s okay?” Timothy stammers out, blinking. “Are you sure–? I don’t want to–” 

“Of course, come on,” Rhys replies, nodding his head towards the door as he began to walk. 

Timothy falls into step beside him, a near permanent smile on his lips and a burst of  _ hope _ in his chest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I really enjoyed writing this and if you did, feel free to leave me your thoughts below! I have a few rambling thoughts so feel free to read them if you'd like! Much love!
> 
> Rhys is one of the most complex characters in the franchise and I am always so saddened to see how uncharacteristic he was in the actual third game. In this little fic, he’s going through the whole work. He starts off defensive, angry and almost upset that Timothy would even think to show up, before realizing that Timothy is kind of like him. Rhys takes the first sign of being able to do some good and suddenly is hit with the realization that, wow, maybe Timothy came to the right place. Of course, getting through that trauma and everything involved is a slow and hurtful process that Rhys avoids until the very end. 
> 
> Timothy is a wonderful character who I seriously enjoyed writing and I figured he would be a nervous wreck to go from living in the same place for seven years trapped to suddenly having the world at his fingertips. Of course, he has nowhere to really go so I figured Fiona would know just where to take him once he’s back on Sanctuary. He’s nervous to be around Rhys, a guy he doesn’t know /at all/ who has a vendetta against Jack and hates Hyperion, but he has nowhere else to go, and really, nothing else going for him. 
> 
> Sasha would most definitely be very, very protective of Rhys so I feel like she’d most reluctant to like/welcome Timothy– she was there and got to see all of the scars Jack left, both physical and mental, on Rhys, and as such she’d be the last to warm up– But she would eventually. 
> 
> I really hope you all enjoyed reading this and feel free to message me on tumblr!


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